I don't know if this even counts as a confession, really. More like... a rumination, maybe. I’m seventy-eight now, almost. Got my government pension, quiet little apartment with a view of the park. My neighbor, bless her heart, brought over some sort of artisanal sourdough last week. Said it was for my "well-being." I didn't have the heart to tell her I prefer white bread, toasted, with jam. I was thinking, just now, about how for so long, my life was… consequential. That’s the word, I think. I was a civil servant, you see. Not a big name, never on the news, but the gears, you know? The cogs that turn the big machine. Decisions I made, policies I influenced, they affected things. Real things. Budgets, infrastructure, even a bit of social welfare reform back in '98. It felt… important. Not in a vain way, I don't think. More like a… a sense of utility. Of purpose. And now... well, now I pick out ripe avocados at the grocery store. My biggest decision is whether to get the regular olive oil or the "extra virgin." It's quite the paradigm shift, I suppose. I remember my ex-husband, Robert, he always said I was "too invested in external validation." He had a way with those clinical terms, even before he left. After he moved in with his chiropractor, a lot of my old friends just… vanished. Took sides, I guess. Rebuilding after fifty, that was… something else. It taught me a lot about resilience, I suppose, if I'm being honest. Not that anyone asks about that anymore. Sometimes I just sit here, watching the pigeons on the window ledge, and I feel this… this ghost limb sensation. Like a part of me that used to be vital is just… gone. Amputated, maybe. I think it's called anomie, isn't it? That feeling of detachment, a lack of purpose in a world that used to make sense. I read about it once, in a psychology journal, probably in the breakroom at work. I used to read a lot, staying current. Now, it's mostly crosswords and the occasional documentary about some obscure historical event. It’s not that I'm unhappy, not exactly. It's just… quiet. And sometimes the quiet is SO loud. Does that make sense? Probably not. I'm just… rambling. Like I said, not really a confession. More like… a quiet hum. A very quiet hum.